The Missing Princess
by soulcage
Summary: After failing to defeat Grieth at his desert stronghold, Celica is separated from her comrades and taken as a prisoner by the bandit lord. Without her important memories to guide her, how will she cope with this situation? Meanwhile, the bandit lord has plans for this beautiful princess. Smut warning.


I do not own Fire Emblem Echoes: Shadows of Valentia or any of its contents or characters.

A warning for all: This series is for the mature and will contain violence and sexual themes. If you are not at a mature age, please turn back. Still reading? This work is for audience 18 and up. You have been warned.

This story revolves around Celica. Most chapters will probably contain more conversation than actual kink. There won't be any character death, scat, or gore. Chapters will probably be dark due to the situation though. There will also be a slave/dom dynamic as well as chastity. If kink is not your cup of tea, then feel free to turn back.

* * *

There was a striking pain which rang through Celica's temple. The nauseating pain was enough to stir her from her slumber. Slumber? Had she fallen asleep? She didn't know why. What was she doing before then? Nothing popped up in her mind. Her mind was a total incoherent mess, and piecing it back together proved difficult in that moment. Was this an after effect of the pain that was hanging over her head? But then one must wonder what caused this pain. It felt like a spear with a blunt tip was trying to dig deeper and deeper into her head, trying to pierce her skull yet failing to do so. It made her cringe and uncomfortable to an insane degree. She was thankful it only lasted for moment.

Gradually, she felt the warm, hard surface of stone against her cheek. She was laying on her side it seemed. It also seemed she was sweating. A terrible amount of sweat had already poured into her clothes. It might have been because of her doing tired from a long battle, or it could be this awful heat from the environment surrounding her.

When she finally opened her eyes, the world was a spinning blur. She shut her eyes again and reopened them. A little better. The pain throbbed in her head. She cringed and looked around. She was in some kind of dungeon or perhaps a cave. The floor was made out of white stone which was polished from the amount of feet that had tread over it. The walls were a darker shade made out of large cuts of granite stacked together with small dark gaps in between. The architecture was better than the chambers inside the crypts she had explored before on her journey? What journey? She shook her head for a little while, feeling the pain that was starting to come back. Her rosy eyes came to and inspected the space again which turned out to be a small room. Along the walls were lit torches assisting her in painting a picture to this depressing chamber.

It was only after looking around to the extent of how much her eyes can see that she noticed the eminent condition of her being. The majority of her skin was red from cuts and bruises, the blood had already seeped out and was turning into scabs. The cuts had also made tiny incisions around her robes which used to be white but was now covered in dust and sand. The cloth attached from the back of her cape to her sleeveless robe had been severed by a long cut from her shoulders to her elbows, a hollow scratch of that length marked her once pristine skin. A blade had probably tried to slash her entire arm off. It looked as if she had partaken in a gruesome battle, and lost, apparent in the metal shackles binding her wrist behind her back.

The wounds, the mysterious chamber, her bound and schakled, the marks of a battle, all of it was starting to make sense in her mind now. A flood of memories came rushing in. Her, Saber, Mae, Boey, Genny, and the others had come to this fortress to fight Gieth, the bandit lord. And then blank. None of the remnants of the battle remained in her memories. She was more distracted by the fact that she could not recall why they came here to fight in the first place. On a different note, who was Saber? And Mae? And Boey? Their faces were like washed out paintings whenever she tried to recall them. Then a sharp pain erupted. Not the pain from earlier, but a different kind of pain, an emotional pain, one that she did not know why it was happening. She began to cry and weep, not knowing why. It's as if a different side of her knew a reason why she had to be sad. It's as if she was watching a different person crying in her stead, all the while wondering why, it's not like they were her friends right? Were they? Nothing is coming up. They must be if this side of her was acting like this. She motivated herself to recall everything once again, but it was all an abyss. An abyss so dark, it looked like the entrance to the Necrodragon lair. Necrodragon? Those large stinky things? She walked further back in memories and arrived at an island, the first clear memory she had, although not detailed enough to know everything. A priestess, she was a priestess in hiding. But for some reason, she left the island to go on a pilgrimage. She began crying again.

The room then became silent for a long while. Her tears had dried up, and the bruises she had didn't feel as awful as earlier. It was a long time of laying on her side on the ground So long that she had already turned her attention to something else. Boredom.

Failing to grasp anything, and her slow detachment from those fragmented memories, left her empty and most of all bored. Not to mention the god awful heat, not from the torches, but from the stairs blowing sand and hot air to the chamber. Her exposed pits were beginning to stink from the sweat, just wearing her robes made her uncomfortable. She must not be used to such climate.

Yawning, she let her imagination roam around. So after this climactic battle, which was just like in the tales of heroes she faintly recall, her group was defeated by an even greater force, and now as a beautiful young maiden, at least she hoped she was, the enemy had taken her captive. Wait a minute, didn't those tales always ended unpleasantly? Wouldn't this be a great opportunity to rape the weak priestess? Her heart begun to race in a panic. She sat up suddenly, only to be stopped by an ache in her body. Must get out of here, she thought. She was too young to get raped by bandits. She had never even done it with Alm yet. Who's Alm? She pondered on the random name which came up only to get back to what was more important, escape.

Putting her knees together, she folded them and leaned in forward to stand up, but a loud creak disturbed her from her attempt. The door from up the stone stair case opened and closed followed by metal bolts fastening in a secure thud. She turned her head towards the stairs, her heart still racing. The person who entered was loud in their descent, their heavy boots asserting who was the boss around their.

She let out a tiny squeek as the person who entered looked like a dangerous criminal. Grieth, the bandit lord, she recalled. He was tanned and had solid mucles from his arms to his chest. His broad chest and shoulders was aptly hidden by a steel plated jerkin, battle hardened and worn out. He was a perfect display of dominant masculinity, far from her weak and frail womanhood. She felt so small compared to him. No wonder she had lost. A girl such as her could never hope to overpower such a strong man. It would be no surprise if she had bowed down to her knees and asked him for mercy before she lost consciousness. Maybe it was not too late for that now. The one eye not hidden by an eyepatch looked at her as if she was a discarded doll for disposal before looking away. His stride led him around the chamber, avoiding her, towards the old wooden desk near her back. She followed him with her eyes, too afraid of what he might do if she let him escape her sight. Behind the desk was a large collection of gold coins and other trinkets just lying on the floor. The absurd amount was just too mind blowing. He must have gotten them from his numerous conquests and fearsome battles. This godlike man must've had razed his band throughout Zofia.

When Grieth took a seat on his fine chair, which he stole from a noble's mansion while said noble and their guards were away, he rubbed his hands across his face as if trying to relieve himself of the stress he had incurred from winning just barely against Celica's group. It was a fight which costed him men and coin. In the end, the only loss was on his side while this girl, who was inspecting him with her annoying rosy eyes, had managed to let her comrades escape gravely wounded. He leaned back against the throne-like chair. Possibilities ran through his mind. It will take some time, but they will return to her rescue eventually. But without her leadership and influence, they will have a tough time, but they will come. Months, he wagered. One or two months, for healing their wounds and gathering forces if they have the coin for it. With so few men now stationed at his citadel, not to mention how badly thrashed the place was, he will be at a disadvantage. It will take some time for his men stationed up north, and his pirates, who were carrying out his slave trading, to return and build a solid wall of defense. But this gap in time of being exposed made him nervous. He needed to hurry his men with repairs. Perhaps it was not too late to make a deal with this girl. Maybe if he acted nicely and pin the blame on the Duma Faithful, she'd be willing to bargain with him. But there was no way that was going to happen, not with all the profanity he had spout out amidst their battle. Not the benevolent crown princess of Zofia, who slew the feared Necrodragon with few numbers in her party, and slew his subordinate turned pirate king, Barth. She was a force so strong, she could move Zofia with her words.

"P-Please, c-could you just let me go?"

Those sniveling words were alien to him, but there was only one other person in this room who could have said it. He looked up to the girl who was sitting on her ass, teary eyed and looking like a village peasant than a leader.

"Please?" Come on, more tears. Why is it so hard to make fake tears, she thought to herself. Maybe if she acted nicely and pin the blame on Saber, he'd be willing to bargain with her.

"Let you go?!" He let his voice boom throughout the room, letting his anger take hold instead of his fear of the Zofian crown. "After wounding me and my men?! I'd sooner kill you myself than let your pretty little face see the light of day, you damn princess."

"Princess?" She cocked her head, estranged by the term. "A princess? Me? I'm only a priestess serving Mila! No way a normal girl like me could be a princess, Lord Grieth sir. Please, I'm only a helpless priestess out on a pilgrimage to meet Mila herself. I admit that I was wrong for attacking your domain, but if you could just hear me out, perhaps we can make a common ground."

After those last few words made their way to his puny mind, Grieth turned from a raging bandit feared by the local townsfolk to a motionless work of art showing just how stunned a person could be when faced with a totally unexpected situation. His head tried to spin coherent thoughts, but it took him some time to do so. He was, in every sense of the word, confused.

"Are you trying to fool me? Grieth of all people? Do you honestly think you could tell stupid lies in front of my face?" His face contorted into one of someone who was being treated like a naive child. Veins surfaced in his temple as his eyes looked like an angry gorilla's.

Celica shook her head frantically. "No! Of course not! I am telling you the truth, I swear! I swear by all that Mila's deems true!"

Grieth's eyes, again, grew wide as Rigelian dinner plates. As he wracked his brain, trying to tell heads from tails, the girl was sobbing to an exaggerated degree. He brought his hand up to scratch his pate. "If you are indeed telling me the truth, then tell me, what is your name?"

"My name?" She brought her head up, stopping her fake sobbering for a minute. What was her name? She prodded her fragmented memories to scoop whatever hints she could find. There was none. "I... I am... I don't know. My name, I don't know what it is," she admitted at a loss for words. There was nothing more troubling to her up to this point than the loss of her own identity. A torrent of mind numbing emotions flooded her thoughts as she slowly arrived at the reality she stumbled upon. More and more questions added more and more questions which she wished she could run away from. However, she had one wish, and that was to learn the truth.

The man leaned back once again to the comforts of his throne, as surprised as his prisoner. "You're shitting me. You don't know who the hell you are?!"

She wordlessly nodded her head as her own world came crashing down.

Silence permeatted Grieth's private quarters. Celica was lost in her clouded thoughts while Grieth was conflicted, yet not much a mess as Celica was.

He aligned the facts one at a time. The Duma Faithful came to warn him of her arrival and lent their witches to his aid, their only wish was to have her unharmed. Celica and her group came to confront him after learning of his deeds. They battled inside his citadel. During the heat of the confrontation, a massive spell was cast by one of the witches and hit the center of the conflict, hurting friend and foe alike. A portion of the battlements and neighboring structures lost support, resulting in a cave in. Wounded, Celica's group began to retreat during the cave in, but she heself was knocked out by the rubble. The witches, too, were caught in the mess. Her group was unable to reclaim her as his archers regain their composure and rained down their arrows from high up. In the end, they were forced to leave their princess behind.

Now, after sorting the alive from the dead, he and his men found the unconscious girl lying amongst the rubble. He brought her in, ordered his scouts to tail the enemy, and sent word to his men to the north and east of the conclusion of the battle and what their next action was. He did not send a message to the Duma Faithful yet. And now, the princess everyone was after sat in front of him, memories robbed from her, not knowing that she was the princess to an entire kingdom. She knows him however based on her actions earlier. But what else does she know? Her knowledge was a mystery. Looking at it from a different perspective, she was fragile as a newborn baby. A push here and there, and some nice words, then she'll be a ripe fruit perfect for the taking. He needed to take advantage of this second wind.

"Well, that is sad to hear." He changed his tone to that of a caring businessman to a valuable client. "So sad in fact that ol' Grieth pardons you for his crime. Now quit being so glum, Celi- Uhmm... Seeing as though neither of us know your name, what should we call you?"

"You don't know what my name is either?" She looked up, distressed.

"Nope." He conjured the best acting a playwright could ever wish. "You came to my abode out of nowhere. Hell, the guys pissed their pants when they knew we were under attack. Anyway, that's all in the past now."

"I-I'm so sorry. Sorry that I caused you so much harm. How could a servant of Mila act so violently?!" She cried out.

"Riiiight, a servant of Mila." He studied her carefully, skeptical of her act.

Celica looked down at the floor, intimadated by the scary face he was giving. There was no way she was going to be forgiven for what she had done. She will surely get her comeuppance. "Please don't rape me. Please! I-I have never done it with anyone before. I beg of you, I'll do anything, just don't harm me!"

The man raised a brow. "We will not rape you. That would be such a waste. But you will be sold in the slave market as soon as we find a buyer. It is only fair for the damage you had done." A virgin would fetch a high price. A royal virgin would fetch an entire trove. Speaking from experience, his gains would be double compared to surrendering her to the Duma Faithful. He made up his mind there that he'll send out word to them that she's missing. If he told them she's dead, his head would be in danger.

The girl hung her shoulders in defeat after learning her new purpose. Perhaps this was Mila's judgment on her.

"Alright, Nancy, stand up and let me appraise you," he commanded.

"Nancy?" Celica let the name ring in her ears.

Grieth stood up like an officer at an army. "That's your name from here on out. Get used to it." That was also the name of the whore he had bedded at a town far east a couple of moons ago. It was perfect name for the slave-to-be. As he walked around his desk towards the place Celica was sitting at, the girl was lost in thought and muttered Nancy once again. It was better than having no identity to speak of. She was now Nancy the Mila priestess, who would soon be sold in the blackmarket. Grieth stood tall above her. Once again she was witnessing the magnificent display of his masculinity. She was like a pebble, an insect. She stared at him wide eyed as his shadow spread over her effortlessly.

Grieth stopped before Nancy and noticed she was looking at him in awe as if he was a god. He liked it. "You know what, nevermind. Just stay there like that."

Celica remained where she was, looking up at the daunting mountain, her big rosy lips quiverring and open. She wanted to appease the man.

"Nancy, you're not lying about all this are you?" Grieth let out a solemn question.

Nancy shook her head like an innocent child.

"If you're really telling the truth," he said with anticipation. "kneel in front of me."

The girl righted herself despite the troublesome shackle binding her hands behind her. Her needy eyes looked up at Grieth, waiting for his next words.

Grieth let out a terrible chuckle as the princess obeyed him like a trained puppy. "I'm still not very convinced."

"W-What should I do, Lord Grieth sir?" Celica pleaded.

He let out an even wider smile. Looking down at the princess, she was indeed a beautiful girl. The flowing auburn of her hair was like the work of a master painter. Not only that, her robes were hiding a pair of large assets in front and from behind, complimented by her perfect hourglass figure. For a monarch to possess such a flawless boon was unfair. He drank her sight, hungry for whatever needs he had right now. But touching the goods too much would cut his profits dramatically. "Nancy, from now on, you must swear yourself to me, understand? You are Grieth's possession for now."

She nodded without hesitation.

"To prove that, lower your head and kiss my foot."

Celica was taken aback by the sudden request. A part of her wanted to ignore that order. That part begged her not to. That she must retain her confidence and her pride, for she was a person that would- That would what? She was merely a girl who got captured and had no way out. She did not have any special authority over someone else. Pride was nothing to her, and she had no reason to hold herself up high. It took a short moment for her to lean her body down. Her vibrant hair fell down at either side of her bruised face. The large breasts hidden under her clothes proved to be an obstacle once she was in proximity to the stone floor, regardless she squished her tight assets against the pavement to care for her overlord's foot. Her luscious red lips came into contact with that bandit's boot as she prostated herself, making her rump stick out behind her, not failing to grasp his attention. She kissed the tip of that boot, leaving a small amount of dirt on her lips before moving onto the one beside it, though Grieth never told her to kiss both boots. She kissed both, alternating between them to make sure she was satisfying her master's order. The man in front of her was too great a being to be worshipped by a corrupt girl like her.

"Who is the one you call master?"

"It is you, Lord Grieth sir," she replied in between kisses.

"That's right. Don't forget, I can kill you with one swing of my blade. One punch is enough to decimate you. One stomp of my foot is enough to crush you, got that?" He watched the show from high above as the beautiful princess was acting like the perfect slave. He wondered what had gotten into her. What had possessed her to act in such a submissive manner. If she kept this up, he'll be tempted to do what he swore he would never do. He was tempted to unzip the craving hardness inside his pants and yank her up to worship it. God, he wanted to just grab a handful of her hair and pull on it, shove her tiny lips against his hard cock and just push her in. He wanted to just strip her bare and lay her on his desk so he could appraise her entire body. Examine the absolutely perfect body of the Zofian princess. She would no doubt not hesitate to present herself to him like a fine dish on a carefully prepared platter. She would raise her ass up and beg him to use her as an object of relief for his raging erection. He would thrust in from behind, watch her goddess-like body rock back and forth as he pounded her, her hair flaring out wildly, and her bountiful breasts swaying to their movements. This chamber would be drowned by their moans and lust. She would profess her love and worship of him with tears of joy as she let herself lose to the lust of sex. Just thinking about it was too painful to bare. He wanted to do it. With a snap of his fingers, he could will it. This girl who was still kissing his feet would obey him. Then he would finally fuck her tight little virgin cunt senselessly until the sun rose a second time. But he could not, he mustn't let the desires have control over him. All the money to be had was more important than a one night stand. Money was far more important.

He must be careful from now on. No matter what happened, Nancy must never reach her sexual release.

With that said, he brought one knee to the ground and got on the same level as Nancy. She stopped after noticing this action, and raised her face to look upon her lord. Grieth placed a gentle pair of fingers on her chin and raised her to meet his eyes.

"From today forward, you shall be Grieth's woman, if not temporarily. You are our captive until we find you a worthy buyer. Until then, your chastity is more important than a hundred silver swords. Understand?"

Celica listened to his husky voice and replied, "Yes, sir." She bowed her head like a frightened puppy to her owner.

"Good, now stand up." His rough hands tug on the bare skin of her delicate arm. It was so alarmingly frail that he was afraid he would snap it althogether.

She felt the large hand grasp her. It was so big, and the sheer strength in which he pulled up her was greater than she estimated. She was like a ragdoll to this man.

He led her up the stairs, not letting go of her, while she quietly followed his lead. Opening the door, he found one of his subordinates, Lyra, standing guard nearby in a spot away from the busy paths of the fortress while the rest were making repairs and working on other duties. She was a quiet thing. Always standing somewhere in some inconspicuous place. When he confronted her about this, she only said that she liked to observe. That was how she became his eyes, a watchdog. Her appearance was not unlike the bandits of his company. She wore ragged clothes, ones that suited a desert rat. Often people mistake her for a man. They could not be blamed for she possessed none of the traits and allures of women, not even the slightest. That flat chest and that freckled face would sooner catch the attention of another woman. None of the other men of his group ever approached her, and merely treated her like a ghost.

She was perfect for the task he had thought of.

"Lyra, come over here for a sec." He waved.

The woman turned their way and started approaching them, first noticing the princess behind him. "What is it, boss?"

Grieth held out Celica's arm to her, earning a small grunt from the young girl though she did not complain. "Take her to the dungeon, and don't let anyone else in, understand? Lock her up and return to me for further instructions."

She nodded and took Celica away from him, leading her down a dark doorway towards a series of stairs leading toward the base of the fortress. Their path was thankfully lit by the occasional torches bolted to the wall on their side. Lyra was quiet all the while, and Celica was beginning to wonder what was up with her.

They finally landed on a dusty old floor made of common grey stone. As Lyra took a torch hanging nearby and pointed it forward, Celica was able to take a better look at the so called dungeon. The space contained two rows of prison cells, illuminated by the bright sun peeking through a grated square window inside, preventing anyone from escaping. But the halll was dim and needed a source of light in order to not stumble against the uneven pavement.

Lyra took her to a cell nearby and locked her inside without a word. Celica did nothing to protest or to bribe, fearing the wrath of Grieth.

Once Celica was left alone behind quiet prison bars, she was at a loss of what to do. The draft and heat of the desert through the narrow slits of the rusted window bars were a big reminder of how stranded she was. She looked around her cell. Besides the heavily rusted jail cell bars facing the narrow hall, around her were dark and dry stone walls. They looked ancient, impossible to take apart with just her bare hands. She wanted to escape, but that would be an unlikely option. There was a worn out sack of hay and a ragged blanked to side of the window. She moved to it and sat herself on the musty old cloth. It was there that she became aware of a pungent smell surrounding the cell. It was hard to describe, but it was not at all unbearable. It reminded of her of the crypts. The reason why she didn't complain about it was that her own smell dampened this one. The warm climate made her sweat each second. Her skin was all sticky and her own body odor dominated her nose. She studied her own dress. For some reason, she was wearing a cape. A cape so dramatic that it looked embarrassing. She wanted tear it off. Moving on, the dress she wore was beautiful, no, it had been beautiful were it not for the gashes and blood polluting it.

Her needs materialized themselves. She wanted a bath to clean herself of sweat and dirt, ointment and bandages to treat her wounds, a new set of clothes to replace her haggard ones, a massage to relieve her aching bones and muscles, and food and drink to satiate her rumbling stomach. She shook her head realizing how greedy she was. Remembering her actions earlier, she realized how cowardly she was in trying to deceive Grieth. Was she really a priestess of Mila, or was she an impostor? Could it be that her previous self ran from the priory in order to escape her duties, that this pilgrimage was only an excuse to obtain riches? That would explain why she had been after Grieth. It was not hard to imagine the large bounty on his head. She was disappointed in herself to no end.

She brought her knees close to her body as she leaned back against the stone, but in doing so, her arms became even more numb due to being tied behind her all this while.

A feeling emptiness prevailed over her. What was she to do now? Does she want to return to her previous life, a lie trying to escape from responsibilities, or does she want to cast that away and start from square one, as the one named by the bandit lord, Nancy?

* * *

Back upstairs in Grieth's quarters, the leader in charge was lost in thought. He felt he had arrived at a crossroads. Just thinking about it calmed his earlier erection. Not only did he survive the assault in his citadel, he was able to capture one of the deciding people in all of the realm. The gods must have decided to put him close to the center of their game board, but Grieth was not enthusiastic about that. He did not want to have hand at determining the continent's fate. He was only a bandit after all. His only concern was to give his domain a prosperous life through pillaging and trading.

But he must decide on what to do with Celica.

A sudden clamber interrupted his train of thoughts.

"Sir, our messenger from the east coast has returned!" The voice proclaimed loudly behind the door after knocking a few times.

"Good, send him in." That was quicker than he expected, he thought.

The messenger came down the stairs, panting and exhausted. He rushed over to the Grieth's line of sight and relayed his message. "Sir, while I was on my way to our secluded to port, I came across a party of Rigelian soldier. All infantrymen, only one captain on a war horse."

"Rigel has reached the coast?" Grieth said in surprise, a brow raised.

"It seemed so. They came from a village up north not too far from our ports. They must have taken refuge there."

"That's not good. If Rigel were to find our hideout, it could spell trouble. Were you able to reach our guys at the coast?"

"Yes, sir. I skulked around the Rigels and used our secret path. I know you always told us not to use it, but with the situation, I thought it was the only option. I made sure my foot marks were faded and the path roughed so they wouldn't notice. When I reached the our hideout, the guys had just returned on our ship, The Tailwind."

"Were they able to sell the slaves off to Archanea?"

"Indeed. They have the profits stored away in a chest. A whole lump sum too heavy for me to carry."

Grieth smiled but remembered the problems at hand. "Did you tell them of our current conditions?"

"Yes, I told them that the base was wrecked, but we managed to take a captive, and that they were to return as soon as possible to sell this captive off. But not long after, a lookout spotted the Rigel nearby. We were forced to hideaway in the cave along with the ship."

Grieth clicked his tongue which made the messenger nervous.

"In the end, we decided it was too dangerous for such a large group to make any movements while the Rigels were on the prowl, so they dispatched me instead." He finished, bracing himself to be reprimanded by the boss. But his expectations were cast out as Grieth only sighed.

"That was a smart move. You did good by not exposing our loot to the Rigels. Fine, I can wait a little bit more for the guys to come home. Go fetch something to eat at the mess hall, once you are done, go find Hilbert for your next orders. Dismiss." Grieth was tending to his temples after learning of the developments of his crew at sea. What was a squad of Rigelians doing there? Were they planning a preemptive strike on Zofia by avoiding the Deliverance to the east? In any case, transport Celica now would be far too dangerous. It was best to wait things out for a better opening.

A knock on the door came in next. It was Lyra. Grieth let her in, and she came to a halt in front of his desk without a sound.

"She's been locked away, boss. Also, I've finished taking note of the current situation of the citadel. More than a third are dead, and the majority are wounded and incapable of fighting. Our overall fighting force has dropped by half. I have already started cremating the dead while I sent all able body to do repairs on the watchtowers and walls. It will take some time for the group to recover both mentally and physically." Her tone was lacking of emotion despite the circumstances.

Grieth let out a heavy sigh. "A great analysis, my dear. It was a good idea to keep you around despite being a woman. If it were not for that cool head of yours and that your talent with the bow, I'd send you off just like the rest."

She remained silent.

"In any case, we're undermanned. We need all the cool heads and brain savy to be the helm, which is why I am promoting you to captain at this very moment. You shall take Rickard's post seeing as though he's no longer with the living."

"I am grateful, sir."

The man frowned, mildly annoyed by her lack of enthusiasm. "We should hurry up with the repairs. Being exposed is bad enough."

"May I suggest we cover all the broken parts of the outer walls with tarp and rags. It should give us a camouflage and will make it difficult from outsiders to judge the our current condition."

"Yes, go take care of that." He nodded.

"What are we going to do with that girl?"

Grieth became thoughtful for a moment. He could not let the Duma Faithful know about her whereabouts, but he could not transport her with the tense environment surrounding the east coast. It was best that he keep her top secret. "Make sure to keep her well fed, and..."

"Even though our supplies are running low?"

"Yes." This blasted woman. "Even if our supplies are but a smidge. With the our dead leaving us, there'll be fewer mouths to feed. Make sure no harm befalls on our dear captive. Any person who so much as inserts his tip into her nether regions will be burried in the middle of the dunes. Keep a close eye on her and make sure she doesn't try anything funny. Now get your ass out of here."

* * *

Author's note: That marks the end of the first chapter. Celica lost her memory and has adopted the name Nancy as her own. I will be switching the names around in future chapters to prevent confusion of who Nancy is. With that said, will Celica eventually forge a new identity?

If you have any questions or suggestions, leave a PM or a review. Feedback will help.

Until next time.


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